


Catch Me Because I'm Already Falling

by badlifechoices



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint gets a hug, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, could be seen as a sequel to 'a strange pink flavour', from his big green angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badlifechoices/pseuds/badlifechoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets captured and tortured for information by HYDRA. The other Avengers come to his rescue but even though he's technically still alive it might just be too late already...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me Because I'm Already Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Another commission for the wonderful Caity! This time with a little surprise at the end because you've been so kind and patient and everything and I just really hope you like it!
> 
> I'm still taking commissions, please take a look: http://legolastheprettiestelf.tumblr.com/post/110014768302/fanfic-commissions

Clint awoke with a groan and tried to turn his head a bit. He regretted it immediately as the movement sent a wave of dizziness through him that made his empty stomach revolt. Biting his teeth together he forced himself to not move, to not freak out but instead focus on his breathing.

In.  
Out.  
In.  
Out.  
One.Two.Three.Four.Five.Six.Seven.  
One.Two.Three.Four.Five.Six.Seven.Eight.Nine…  
Fuck.

He was supposed to breathe out for twelve seconds if he remembered the SHIELD handbook against panic attacks correctly but the seventh second made his chest itch and the ninth hurt enough to have him suck in a sharp breath. Okay. Everything was okay. He had been in worse situations. At least that was what he was trying to tell himself as he slowly opened his eyes. But the room was just as dark as the space behind his eyelids. Maybe even darker. The archer blinked a few times to get rid of the weird feeling of being suffocated but it didn’t quite work. So he decided to focus on something else, like trying to remember how he got here in the first place.

All he remembered of the battle was a blur, some kind of aliens maybe or robots, a lot of thunder and lightning – courtesy of Thor – and Tony freaking out over the intercom. They had gotten separated somehow, he didn’t recall how but he’d ended up alone, surrounded by a group of kind of deadly looking robots, he was pretty sure it was robots now, and with only one single arrow left in his quiver. Clint really hoped he had made a good picture, going down fighting but he pushed the thought aside immediately. What had happened afterwards? He could only remember tiny snippets, people in creepy masks towering over him and spitting words at him, asking him questions. Stark, Stark’s name sure had come up a lot and the Hulk. Maybe they wanted to know how to take them out or whatever kind of secret technologies Stark had hidden away in that tower of his but even if Clint knew anything, he sure as hell wouldn’t talk about it. And that’s literally the only thing he was sure of right now because he had been trained for situations like this and no matter how often he’d end up captured he’d never lost a word about anything important.

Clint guessed those guys hadn’t taken it too well, judging from his cracked ribs and the way his head seemed ready to explode. There was something else though, something at the back of his head that was labelled ‘important’. He didn’t have to break his head over it for too long to find out just what it was. The moving of his right arm was enough. His split lips parted to let out a cry of pain but his throat was too raw too scream and he ended up gasping for air. Oh god what had they done with his arm? He couldn’t move any of his fingers, couldn’t even feel them and a wave of panic crashed into him. Not his right arm! Anything but that… His breathing was everything but regularly as he strained against the chains holding him. The iron cut into the skin of his wrists and set his head aflame with excruciating pain. Clint choked on his own breath and he felt the dizziness return with full force.

He’d been through worse. The archer still tried to tell himself just that but he didn’t remember any time in the last years that he felt quite this miserable. He almost wished he’d pass out again, go back to that warm and comforting darkness that would save him from reality for another while. His instincts kicked in, stilling his movements until there was only the dull pain creeping up from his right arm and settling in his chest around the cracked or maybe broken ribs. Closing his eyes he leant back against the cold stonewall in his back and tried to focus on pleasant thoughts and memories. But his mind was a treacherous friend ally and his thoughts immediately wandered to darker places.

Clint would never get out here on his own. There was no way to break these chains and even if by some miracle he’d come free, he probably wouldn’t make it very far. So waiting for rescue it was. A rescue that might not come at all or that would take too long to save him. How long it was until his captors decided that their torture didn’t work and tried something more… crass was impossible to tell but it probably wouldn’t be long. And then there was his arm. His precious, right arm that was essential to what he did. What if rescue did come but they couldn’t do anything for his arm? What if it didn’t heal properly or not at all? The question weighted even heavier on him than the fear of never leaving this place. He had fought so hard to be where he was. He had become an Avenger; he was the only normal human to have joined this team of superheroes and superspies and geniuses. All he had was his bow. _I can never miss. Because even if I miss only once I’d be nothing special anymore. Just another freak with a weapon from the stone ages._

There was no way the Avengers would let him stay on the team when he turned out to be useless. He’d have to leave. Maybe even SHIELD would kick him out and then he’d be back to square one. He’d have to go back to doing his own thing, maybe back to being a mercenary and contract killer. And he’d lose the few people who really meant something to him. Natasha, the others, Hulk, Hulk… Cupid without a bow was just another puny human. He buried the thought immediately.

But he couldn’t silence the tiny voice in the back. It wasn’t his voice, it was a cruel and dark voice, one that belonged to an ugly and monstrous face. _Useless._ It whispered into his ear. _You’re nothing but a burden to them, little Hawk. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it. Don’t tell me you don’t know. They don’t need you. On the contrary. You endanger their missions, their teamwork. You’re holding them back. They’d be better and stronger without you and you’re well aware of that, aren’t you? I don’t know why they’re even keeping you around, maybe you amuse them? Even someone as good a liar as you has to admit it, you’ll never be on their level._ Clint bared his teeth and shook his head, disregarding the headache pounding in his temples. This wasn’t true. The avengers would never keep him if he was slowing them down. Tony wasn’t selfless enough for something like that and Steve not dishonest enough to openly lie to him. But then again, they hadn’t asked for him in the first place, had they?

The archer squeezed his eyes shut and drew his knees up to his body as best as possible. For the first time in years he felt as weak as he had as a child. The same fear that had haunted him during his days at the circus and after his brother had left crept into his mind and gnawed away at the self-confidence he’d had such a hard time building up over the years. He felt like a lost child again, abandoned with no one who wanted him.

It was the feeling of the ground shaking underneath him that tore him out of his thoughts. It felt like an earthquake, one of those that tore down entire cities. Then there was a sound, not the dreaded sound of footsteps in the hallway outside his cell. It sounded like something large was plummeting through the roof many stories above him and for a little moment he dared to hope that it meant he wasn’t being forgotten again. A familiar roar reached his ears and made his heart jump. _Hulk._ But it was too far away, what if the others didn’t find Clint down here? What if they brought down the building on top of him? Thor, Hulk or even Steve could probably survive being buried under tons of steel and concrete but he’d be flat as a pancake ere he could even try to get out.

And then he heard it. Footsteps. His heart was racing and he desperately tried to squeeze his left hand through the shackle but to no avail. All it did was dig into the already broken skin and he felt hot blood run over the back of his hand. _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ No matter what he did, the chain didn’t give an inch. Clint tried to stand so he could at least try to fight off his attacker but a sharp pain in his left ankle sent him right back to the ground. The fall jerked his right hand back and the pain was enough to make him black out again. He faded in and out of consciousness after that, only aware of his surroundings for a few seconds at a time before the darkness took him again, trying to help his body cope with the strain.

When he came to the next time everything around him was a blur. The door opened and light poured inside that was too bright for his eyes. Someone was standing there, a mere shadow against the blinding brightness. “Time to go, little Hawk.” He heard the same voice that had tormented him earlier say. Someone approached him and then there was another voice, another roar, closer this time. Then: Darkness.

The next time his eyes fluttered open the man was gone. In his stead there was a familiar, huge figure. A face was hovering inches above his own, green eyes mustering him with obvious concern. Clint tried to open his mouth and say something but all he managed was a low rasp. “Hey big guy.” He whispered, as he felt a set of warm hands cupping his face and his dry lips split into a weak smile. It was but a shadow of his usual grin and the witty comment he wanted to come up with got lost somewhere on the way from his brain to his mouth. “Is… good to see you.” The words were followed by a coughing fit and the strain on his rips made him fade out again.

Clint didn’t see how the big guy desperately tried to wake him up again; how the Hulk tore the chains out of the wall and carefully picked him up. He woke up a few times as they made their way back to the Quinjet and every time he thought he saw something on the other’s face that he’d never seen there before. _Fear._ The archer wanted to reach out and comfort his saviour and tell him everything was alright but he never had the strength to move his arm and his voice had abandoned him long ago. He was carefully put down on a makeshift bed of blankets on the floor of the jet he presumed and the Hulk was kneeling next to him, hands roaming over his body but not actually touching him as if he was afraid to hurt him. Clint could hear voices, dulled by the fog around his brain and from far away. He saw the Hulk baring his teeth and cowering over him scaring everyone away who was trying to approach the archer.

 _It’s okay, Hulk. It’s okay._ He wanted to reassure him but then the jet lifted off and his body was shaken hard enough to have him gasp in pain. The concerned face of the Hulk was there again and his voice echoed in his head even when he fell back into unconsciousness.

 

Clint was floating for what seemed like an eternity to him. Around him was nothing but darkness, no dreams haunting him, no voices or memories. There was only blackness and an unfamiliar warmth, like an embrace surrounding him and holding him. Here he felt safe, his subconscious knew that there was no more danger, that he was being taken care of. More so than his conscious mind this part of him had complete faith in that person who saved him and who would do anything to keep him safe.

The first thing he noticed when he had finally clawed his way back up to the surface, was that his limbs were pleasantly numb. The pain was dulled to a point where it was all bearable again. The next thing was the steady humming and beeping around him. It sounded familiar and, though he usually avoided these establishments, immediately reminded him of a hospital. The archer tried to move his hands and legs to test if he had any control over them but found himself bound once again. His eyes flew open and panic surged through him as he saw the straps over his chest, arms and legs. His mind was fogged, possibly from the drugs that were pumped into his body through the IV and he was unable to process why he would be restrained. The only possibility his brain offered him was that he was once again in the enemy’s hands or maybe he had never been rescued and it had all just been some fucked up hallucination.

The monitor next to his bed began to beep frantically as his heartrate climbed up but before he could do anything more than struggle weakly against the straps, there was a hand on his uninjured shoulder. A big, warm hand, that was pressing him back into the pillow. He held his breath but his mind registered no threat in that gesture.

“You said you trust Hulk. Then trust Hulk now. Cupid is safe.” The voice was more soothing than he’d ever thought it could be. When he turned his head he found himself glancing into a pair of green eyes and a face that spoke so obviously of concern that he almost felt stupid for freaking out like he had. Of course he still didn’t recognise the place where he was, apart from the fact that it was obviously a hospital but if the Hulk was here it had to mean that it was safe. The Hulk would never let him stay in a place that wasn’t safe for him, right? Not after just rescuing him from that facility. Which meant Hulk trusted this place enough to stay.

Clint opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t find his voice. Instead he coughed again, twisting his body enough so he could bury his face in the pillow until his lungs calmed down again.

Turning his head again he found that the Hulk was holding a little plastic cup with a straw up to his lips and with a grateful nod he tried some of the water. At first his body wanted to reject it, wanted to break into another coughing fit but he forced himself to drink a few small sips. “Thanks.” He croaked and nodded towards the straps. “Could you?”

The Hulk hesitated. “There to Cupid’s protection. So that Cupid doesn’t move too much and hurt himself.” But he seemed to understand how much it bothered Clint, probably because he knew from first-hand experience how scary it was to wake up bound and unable to move. When Clint raised his hands and swore that he was ‘not gonna move big guy’ the other male nodded. He leant over the injured archer and carefully took hold of the straps. They easily ripped in his big hands and Clint felt like he could finally breathe without feeling like something was trying to choke him. This time he managed an actual smile and when the Hulk retreated to his seat he caught one of the big hands with his own. His left hand obviously, given the right one was splinted and he couldn’t move it even if he wanted to.

The big guy looked down at him and to the archer’s surprise he looked weirdly tired. Once again he couldn’t find any kind of joke or light hearted comment. It probably wasn’t the right moment for one anyway. “Thanks. For coming to get me out of there I mean.” And in an attempt to lighten the mood at least a tiny bit, he added: “I guess I owe you one now but that doesn’t include Sam’s cookies.”

“Hulk was worried.” Was all he got in return. “Hulk couldn’t find Cupid. I was scared.” To have him admit something like that left Clint at a loss for words but not in the bad kind of way. He felt warmth creep into his belly and when he couldn’t find anything to say, he simply tugged at the other’s hand.

“Come here, big guy.” He murmured. “I can’t really move so you’ll have to come down to my level here.” When the Hulk leant down he turned his head to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. Nothing but a little peck because he probably had the worst breath but it was enough to soften the expression on the big guy’s face a bit. “I’m sorry I made you worry you so much.”

“Not your fault. Hulk is angry at himself. Next time I will be there to protect you.” And god that was so sappy and ridiculously cute and Clint really didn’t know what to do because no one had ever said something like that to him. At the same time the thought that he might not be around the Hulk for much longer if the thing with his arm wasn’t fixed crept back into his mind. And the mere thought of having to leave the others and especially the big guy made his chest ache in a horrible way. How the hell had this happened? How had he grown so close to a group of people and especially to this huge, green guy that he felt like this? Clint was supposed to be a spy, he wasn’t supposed to trust anyone in the first place and he was supposed to be able to not only leave but also take out people he’d worked with. But now here he was, unable to even think about the former and the latter would probably break his heart.

Oh no. It wasn’t possible that he had actually fallen for the Hulk? Of all his screw ups this might just take the cake.

Clint didn’t get the chance to reply in any way because suddenly there were footsteps in the hall outside. Before he could stop himself he flinched, instincts taking over as an alarm shrilled inside his head. The Hulk reacted immediately. More than the actual sound of someone approaching them it was probably Clint’s fear that made him jump to his feet and bare his teeth in a growl. One hand was hovering over the archer’s chest as he took a step towards the door and there was something dangerous in his eyes. _Like a wild animal protecting its mate_. Clint thought involuntarily but his attention was drawn to the person standing in the door. It was a young, dark haired woman, dressed all in the light blue the nurses usually wore. The moment she saw the Hulk – and he really was hard to overlook – her eyes widened. The tray she was carrying clattered to the ground and with a shriek she disappeared around the corner, obviously fleeing from the monster she encountered in the patient’s room.

The archer only now noticed that he’d been holding his breath and leant back against the pillow, suddenly feeling exhausted like he’d run a marathon or something. But the Hulk didn’t move, his ears picking up something that Clint didn’t, even with one of his hearing aids in.

A second person appeared in the door, a more familiar shape this time. “Now this is a welcome I don’t get very often.” Natasha glanced from the Hulk to Clint and back. The former still didn’t move, obviously uncertain if he should let her in. Then he abandoned his threatening posture and slumped back into the chair. His hand still hovered over Clint’s chest though and his eyes didn’t leave the redhead as she moved to the other side of the hospital bed. She picked up the tray on her way, gathering whatever the nurse was carrying and placed it on the table next to his bed.

“You know, you kind of had all of us worried.” She said as casually as though she was talking about the weather. “Especially this guy here.” Natasha nodded her head towards the Hulk. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took us to figure out who took you. Tony first thought that you had just gone on some solo mission without telling us but Hulk insisted that you were taking. He’s got a lot of trust in you not to just disappear you know?” Clint swallowed and glanced at the Hulk. Natasha was right and Natasha knew. She knew how fucked up the situation was because if Clint was known for one thing apart from his marksmanship and the circus tricks, it was his disappearing acts. And the Hulk would probably freak out entirely if he pulled one on them… “Anyway, we figured out it was HYDRA and then it was only the question of finding you. Which thanks to Sam and our green giant here breathing down our necks – literally – we managed quickly enough to get there when we did.” Her gaze travelled down to his bandaged chest and his right arm. “Right in time so I hope.”

Clint shrugged and regretted it immediately. The Russian simply ignored his clenched teeth and continued: “Whatever you did to the Hulk, Barton, it’s super effective. He wouldn’t even let me take a look at you after he brought you out of that basement. He almost ripped Tony apart for touching your arm and it took us about half an hour to convince him to let the medics take you with them. I don’t think he’s left this room once after you were brought here and that was days ago.”

The archer glanced over to the Hulk who had crossed his arms in front of his chest like a child and refused to look at him. Clint felt guilty once again but at the same time he couldn’t help the grin spreading over his lips. “Must be my irresistible charm.” He winked at Nat. The woman only rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. It’s good to have you back Barton. And tell your friend here he should probably go eat and sleep or something.” With that she stood up and left with only a little wave of her hand.

It took some convincing to get the Hulk to actually leave him and Clint had to tell him about four times that he was sure that nothing would happen to him. Only then did the big guy follow the call of his grumbling stomach to find whatever food they had at this place.

Once alone, the archer wondered what exactly he was supposed to do. There was no easy way out of this, so much he knew already. Maybe it was better if he left now before he could actually be labelled as useless and kicked out of the Avengers Initiative. But then again, he didn’t know what exactly was wrong with his arm and if there was even the tiniest chance that it would heal… In the end he decided to listen to the part of his brain that told him to run. Not because he wanted to but because it was easier. Or at least his brain told him it was easier and he probably shouldn’t listen to his brain because he was still pretty much high on painkillers. He carefully plucked the IV out of his arm – no he didn’t rip it out like the heroes did in those stupid movies because that would a. fucking hurt and b. probably do more damage than good – and slowly heaved himself out of bed.

Clint struggled to stay on his legs for a moment, as the blood rushed to his feet and left him dizzy once again but it worked. He took another sip of the water and looked around to see if he could find some clothes at least. Sneaking out of a hospital is way easier when you look like a civilian and aren’t wearing that white gown thing that doesn’t even cover your bare arse. Of course he didn’t find any. Either because fate really hated him or really loved his buttocks.

Still, he hadn’t been part of Strike Team Delta for nothing and even bare arsed he should be able to make his way out of here. Clint made his way to the door and pushed it open just enough to see if there was anyone in the hallway. To his relief there was no one in sight and so forcing his legs to obey, he slowly walked down the corridor. By chance he found a coat hanging over the back of a chair and throwing another glance over his shoulder he grabbed it. It was a bit too large for his frame but at least it covered his butt and when it was buttoned, almost completely hid the hospital gown. The few people he met where either too concerned with themselves or in too much of a hurry to notice his bare footed figure shuffling down the hallway.

How he managed it to the back exit without even having to explain himself or running into Natasha or anyone else who’d want to put him right back into his bed, would always remain a mystery. But in the end he made it out. From there on it should be an easy task to find his way. The skyline of New York was unmistakeable and he had several places here where he could hide for a little while and try to let his body get some rest. Clint missed his sunglasses as he stepped out into the bright sunlight and at the same time he was grateful for not being as famous as Captain America or Thor or Iron Man were. No one recognised him, no one even looked at him twice as he headed for Brooklyn where he had a tiny and run-down apartment that only Natasha knew of – there was no hope in keeping secrets from her anyway – waiting for him. Clothes, some cans of food and one of his old bows were stored there and the tiny mattress was all he needed at the moment. Despite having spent so much time more or less out of it, he felt like he could sleep for another week. And he probably would as soon as he got there.

Only that he didn’t get there.

He had barely made it down the street when something slammed into the street behind him and all he needed to know just what was going on was the cries of the people around him. And to answer the question, yes he did actually think he could sneak away without the Hulk noticing or coming after him and no he had not thought about what to say to him should he be asked for an explanation of what he was doing. If he was honest he hadn’t really thought about any of the consequences his actions might bring upon him, he’d just done what popped first into his mind which coincidentally was what he usually did. Not that it always worked out, not even close to always but at least sometimes it did…

Clint could practically feel the look the Hulk was giving him before he could see it though he expected more anger and less… sadness? Disappointment? And god, how was he supposed to talk himself out of this one when he knew that what he was doing wasn’t good or right? It wasn’t even remotely fair towards the guy who had only tried to save him, protect him even. “Cupid is running away?” His voice was still gentle though, as gentle as the Hulk’s voice could be as he watched the wounded archer. “Hulk understands that Cupid is running away when he is scared. But you should have taken Hulk with you.” The spy swallowed thickly. The other wasn’t even blaming him for not staying, just for not asking him to come…

He bit his bottom lip and toned out the murmuring of the people around them. They had an audience already and apparently they began to recognise him as one of the Avengers now – oh sweet irony – but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that he had to make this right. Or as right as possible for a situation as fucked up as this one. _Clint Barton, the man who fucks everything up._ Maybe he should consider getting business cards…

“Look, big guy.” He started and it sounded a lot less… determined than he’d hoped. For a moment he hesitated but there was pretty much nothing he could tell but the truth. “You’ve seen my arm. If this doesn’t end up healing perfectly end everything I’m probably not gonna be able to shoot like I used to. And without my bow I’m a pretty lousy archer, don’t you think? So there’s no reason why the others would keep me around. I’m just making it easier for them… and for you by leaving before the whole awkward ‘I’m sorry, Clint it’s not us, it’s you but you have to go.’ comes up, okay. And if I’m not an Avenger anymore I don’t get to hang around you anymore either…”

“Hulk will come with you.”

“What?” Clint blinked in confusion.

“If Cupid goes Hulk will go with. I don’t care about the Avengers like I care about Cupid. So if you leave others Hulk comes with you.” And he did not only look extremely satisfied with himself that very moment but also obviously wasn’t going to let Clint convince him that this was a pretty bad idea. Not that Clint tried to. He was speechless for a moment, unable to quite understand what the other’s words meant. Once it filtered through the fog around his mind though, he couldn’t help but grin. Suddenly he found himself grinning widely. The archer bridged the distance between them with a few quick steps and placed both his hands one of the muscular arms.

“You really wanna come with me? Even if I won’t be Cupid anymore?” Someone catcalled behind him.

The Hulk grinned back at him. “Cupid will always be Cupid. And Hulk will always want to be with Cupid. If you promise to not leave Hulk next time Hulk will forgive you for not telling that you want to go.”

Clint’s grin widened further if that was even possible. “You know, sneaking out of a hospital with you on my back would’ve been kind of difficult. Not that I don’t trust you to be quiet but you see, you’re not really that inconspicuous. But I guess I can promise that. I might need a little backup anyway and I think I would’ve missed you around.” And it was probably the most public declaration of affection that he’d ever made but didn’t stop him from fearing for his life as the Hulk reached for him. Not that he didn’t appreciate a hug but the bone crushing ones the big guy usually dealt out were nothing for a tiny human with broken everything. But the Hulk only picked him up carefully and held him close.

“You okay with going home?” He asked, looking down at the precious being in his arms.

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go home.” And it didn’t make everything magically okay, or his fear of being considered useless go away. But it felt good to have someone who had his back. And who wouldn’t hold him back but instead go with him if he decided to leave. If he was being honest, it was the safest and the most at home that he’d ever felt.

 

-Bonus-

 

“Oh god, do it… please Hulk just…” And really he was proud he was still able to form at least halfway coherent sentences because his brain had long stopped working the way it should. Which probably had something to do with his whole body burning and his blood having found its way to regions further south than his head. His hands were clutching the sheets, his back arched, and his eyes were wet with tears that didn’t result from pain.

He felt so wrung out, too much pleasure, too much everything. And yet he couldn’t get enough. He needed more and he needed it so badly, he wasn’t beyond begging for it. The broken sobs and moans falling from his spit wet lips ere all he could get out as those thick fingers inside him moved, stretching him further and testing if he was sufficiently lubed up. Under his instructions at first and later on his own, the Hulk had spent what seemed like ages stretching him, bringing him ever so close to the edge only to leave him whimpering and empty again. By now he was so sensitive he felt every single fibre of his body tingle with want and need.

Clint is pinned to the bed, easily held down by the large hand splayed over his chest. Not that he wanted to escape, all he wanted was _this._ If only the other would give him what he wanted. And of course he knew that the Hulk was trying to be careful, trying not to hurt him but he was more than ready. He bucked his hips, clamping down on the fingers inside him.

“Please Hulk…”

“You sure about this?”

“Yes, god _yes!_ I want you now!”

And that seemed to be enough reassurance because suddenly the fingers inside him were gone and he felt so empty he couldn’t help but whine. But then there was something else pressing against his entrance and _god_ he was grateful for the preparation and the gallons of lube that coated the inside of his walls because he was so huge.

“Come on!”

Then suddenly Hulk pushes in, inch by inch parting his walls and filling him up. Clint groans, letting his head fall back and gripping the sheets hard enough for his knuckles to shimmer white underneath the skin. Over him he could hear the Hulk grunt and groan as he shoved himself inside the archer.

Clint was spread open; he’ never felt this full before and the sensory overload seemed to be killing him. His heart was hammering in his chest and his breath coming harshly, in gasps and pants as he tried to relax himself. The hands holding him down were gentle, fingers carding through his hair and roaming over his chest, brushing over his nipples every now and then.

This, this was what he had been waiting for. What he had not only mentally prepared himself for after he had returned from the hospital where he got his splint removed. They had to celebrate somehow, didn’t they? And with his body being almost completely healed he had no reason to be patient anymore, storming into the shared living room and dragging the Hulk off to his own floor.

“Cupid feel good?”

“Yeah… yeah. Come on… move!”

The sounds that left him then were beyond embarrassing because the Hulk was thrusting inside him and the sheer size of him was alone to brush over his prostate without having to find it first. There was no way he was going to last very long with this. The ache and the stretch was driving him insane, the forceful thrusts splitting him open and leaving him whimpering, crying out for more until his throat felt raw. For a split second Clint was glad that their quarters were soundproof because of how embarrassingly loud he was but the Hulk’s dick inside him pretty much wiped every other thought from his mind.

He’s not even able to spit out whole words anymore, just desperate noises and broken cries, as he desperately reaches for the other’s shoulders to have something to hold onto. His fingers claw at the smooth skin and though they don’t leave any trace, it makes the man above him growl and quicken his pace, thrusting into him hard enough to make the bed creak.

It’s all Clint can take and maybe another time he’ll get to feel embarrassed about his lack of stamina but he’d been teased for so long and the constant onslaught on his prostate was enough to push him over the edge. He didn’t even touch himself before a hoarse cry fell from his lips and his body shook, every single muscle tensing as he came.

The Hulk groaned as Clint clenched up around him, not stilling in his motion but pushing further, riding the archer through his orgasm and assaulting the oversensitive nerves again in pursuit of his own pleasure. His body felt entirely alien in this moment, he had no control over his limbs and there were tiny stars dancing in front of his eyes.

The other’s orgasm took him by surprise, he didn’t have the time to recover before the Hulk buried himself even deeper inside of him and let out a literal roar that was probably loud enough to be heard throughout the entire tower.

Clint squeezed his eyes shut and buried his fingernails in Hulk’s shoulders as the other came inside of him and as if he wasn’t full enough already, filling him up to the brim.

Panting harshly, they both stared at each other for a moment. Clint was too wrung out to even move a muscle but managed a tiny smile when the Hulk carefully pulled out and crashed onto the mattress next to him.

“Was that good?” He asks, hands roaming the archer’s body carefully as though he was scared he had hurt him or broken him or something. But Clint only nodded.

“Yeah. Pretty good.” Clint knew he was going to be sore as fuck in a few hours and probably for the rest of the week but he was confined to the tower anyway until his body had the time to recover completely. And until he passed the physical that had been set up for him by SHIELD. Which meant he’d have to get back into training first anyway. So a bit, or rather a hell of a sore back was okay. “We should do that again.” He shifted a bit until he could look at his lover and grinned sleepily. “But give me an hour or something first.”

The Hulk only huffed out a breath and slung an arm around him when Clint shifted closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Cupid needs sleep. Hulk will take care of Cupid.”

Clint hummed, burying his face in the crook of the other’s neck. “I know, big guy, I know. You’ll always take care of me.”

-the end-


End file.
